Bioshock FOREVER (REWRITTEN)
by Audriec Salveator
Summary: A better up-to-date and new version of Bioshock FOREVER. Rated M for extreme violence, drug use, swearing, and suggestive themes. I do not own bioshock franchise, all rights to developer, etc. FANFICTION CHARACTERS, PLOTS, AND CUSTOM AREAS BELONG TO ME! Please read and review! Part two coming after this!
1. The Arrival

_**Bioshock: Forever (REWRITE)**_

_**Chapter One**_

I am Tyler West. I wasn't always. I wasn't always a well-mannered American boy living in Paris. My real name is Ashton Grey. And I wasn't born anywhere near America. I was born under the harsh, Atlantic Ocean. In a city called Rapture. There, I became the first and only boy to survive a genetic experiment. I was the only little brother...

And this is my story.

_**ATLANTIC OCEAN, RAPTURE, WELCOMING CENTER, NOVEMBER 5, 1946**_

The people were abuzz, laughing and talking loudly inside the well-lit lighthouse. They were barely bothered by the thunderous storm outside the golden walls. The travel had been a nightmare (be it by plane or ship), but they were all in their finest clothes, dragging along their Negro servants to carry their steam trunks, bags, and suitcases.

The woman weren't very distinct from each other: Common outfits included both cashmere jackets and button-up blouses in white, purple, or blue. Polka-dotted purses and pin-striped shoes were mutual. High-striped stockings clung to the women's tight legs, and they wore pill bottle hats in navy blue and white.

Another popular trend in the lighthouse for women where short cocktail dresses, in scarlet, yellow, and silver. White-washed pearls and gems were strewn along their skinny necks, and their hair was cut into symmetrical bobs. In their gloved hands they held swirling cocktails, complete with umbrella and olive.

The men of the lighthouse all wear clad in expensive suits and polished slacks, with the touch of a small brown hat. Some men also wore tight vests of pinstripe chocolate. They all held a watch, a fine cigar, or both. They chomped down on them, waiting for the greeter to arrive.

Jacquelyn and Leon' Gray finally reached the lighthouse by 11:27 P.M. It had been a rocky adventure, and both were horribly sea sick. The flight from Paris, France to Reykjavik, Iceland had been long and tiresome, even as they were in first class. Then they had to be smuggled onto one of Ryan's tiny little fishing boats to get to the Rapture Lighthouse.

So when they finally reached solid stone steps, they were immensely happy. Everything was pitch black, except for the bright lights that shown on the front exterior of the building from the boat's head lights. As they climbed the spiral steps, they wondered if they could feel freedom already. Everyone was still a little frazzled from WWII, so it was surprising to the Gray's when they entered the building that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. We should, they thought, as well. So they climbed down, and ordered a drink.

The pool of water at the lowest level of the tower began to bubble. People rushed down in excitement. The walls were covered in fresh sculptures depicting "Science" "Art" "Culture" "Machinery" "Luxury". The guest's cooed and aahhed. A spherical vessel appeared from deep below, slick water sloshing down the exterior of it. From inside, a beautiful young woman with pinned-back blonde hair was fixing some panel of machinery. With a loud click, the almost octagonal door (a pane of thick glass and plastic cossetted by a lining of brass on the sides) opened up, letting everyone feel the warmth of the vessel. The woman stepped out, and with a smile, began talking.

"Welcome everyone. This is the Rapture Lighthouse. This is where you adventure to Rapture begins. As you can see, we will be floating down in a watercraft called a "bathysphere" down to the "Welcoming Center" also known as "The Lighthouse District". Now, the bathysphere can only hold up to about 10-15 people at a time so I will have to make a few trips to get all of ya!"

Jacquelyn and Leon' were second in line. They were huddled in the back of the watercraft. While everyone was excitedly looking at the city below them, the Gray's didn't care: they just held hands, and looked into each other's eyes. Knowing,

**_Everything will be better here._**

I was born in Siren Alley in 1951. Back then, it was a glamorous neighborhood that was rich with diversity. It was Rapture's "Mason District". All engineers, architects, and drafters called it paradise. And to me, it was.

We had a large home and a high salary. We lived up on the third floor of Little Eden Plaza. Our house was gorgeous; a large, 2-story place with a large open living room with a floor-to-ceiling window out looking the Atlantic Ocean. Our house consisted of 10 rooms: three bathrooms, two bedrooms, a den, a study, a kitchen, dining room, and living room. It was the most comfortable lifestyle you could imagine.

I was an only child. My parents, Leon' and Jacquelyn Gray were one of the first pilgrims to Rapture. My father was the leading scientist in Biochemical engineering. He had a good job at Ryan Industries. My mother was just an aristocrat from a wealthy wine-growing family from Champagne. She and my father fell in love at a party in 1943, and married in 1945. My mother didn't have many talents, as she never did the growing of the grapes for wine, but she landed a stable job as a fashion designer for one of the boutiques in Fort Frolic. My parents were often busy, so I was often in the care of nannies and maids and butlers. But I didn't mind. They were working to give me a better life. I received personal tutoring from one of the brightest scholars in Rapture, and was given anything I wished for. It was a happy time. But then Fontaine sparked up thoughts against Ryan. A city-wide dispute went from being quietly whispered about to being yelled about and on the cover of the news. As I child during this, I had no idea of the political turmoil. I was blind of the conflict, until the Civil War began…

_**DECEMBER 31, 1958, THE GRAY MANOR, LITTLE EDEN PLAZA, SIREN ALLEY, RAPTURE****.**_

I hid under my blankets, the cute pattern of zoo animals shrouded in the darkness. My cheeks were red and my eyes stung, tears dripping down the side of my face. Even stuffing my blanket over my ears, I could hear the yelling. My parents were going at it again, barking at each other, like wild dogs. I could hear my mother scream out; I could hear how the ADAM had turned her soft, deeper voice into a high-pitched tone.

"IT'S JUST A PARTY! I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE DANGERS! GOD DAMN IT YOU NEVER LET ME GO ANYWHERE!"

My father was yelling, but still seemed to keep his cool.

"Rapture is in a state of Chaos! I've heard they've shut down some of the bathyspheres to Hephaestus and Rapture's inner core, to make sure that the city isn't taken over by Fontaine!"

I couldn't understand the complexity of the conversation, even though having a high IQ for a 7 year old. My parents rambled on.

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT SHIT RYAN CAN SORT IT OUT. I JUST WANT TO GO!"

"No, you might get hurt!"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!"

"JACQUELYN! JACQUELYN! DAMN IT!"

I hid further under my blanket, as I could hear the loud banging of my mother's footsteps. A fresh stream of tears flowed where the last had dried, like watering a garden of sadness. After an intense few minutes of sad and waiting to see if my mother would come back, I finally un-buried myself from the blankets. My eyes adjusted to the bright light emitting from the golden art-deco oil lamp sliding out of the crimson painted wall. Custom moldings of dreamy designs bordered the ceiling and the floor. A huge mass of teddy bears, stuffed animals, and atomic-looking robots lined my floor. A treasure chest containing all my toys was tucked away in the corner. I would often go to the chest, laughing, and picking up my little robots and soldiers and played war. In the innocence of childhood, I didn't realize how blood fell and people didn't just pick themselves back up in war. I also didn't know that I was going to be pushed right into the middle of one.

I slowly crept from my bed, first letting my left leg seep out from the covers, then my right. My torso came next and I found my feet digging themselves into the oh-so-familiar red and black carpet. Behind me, was a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that showed the bright neon exterior of Fort Frolic and the ocean that surrounded it. The window was clear, but some coral and seaweed were growing at the edges. It seemed as if Siren Alley was built on higher ground than the rest of the Western part of the city; like it was edged on a small aquatic cliff. Schools of fish, a shark or two, and even a purple octopus passed. No matter how many times I looked, the ocean was always awe-inspiring. I looked through the glass; I couldn't see above the ocean, the city was too far down.

I walked out of my room, and was greeted this time by a dome-light that used a light bulb, not a battery. The carpet and solidified into a dark wood, but the dark scarlet walls stayed the same. I quietly tip-toed down the hall, passing the bathroom the entrance to my parent's room, and the dining room. I turned sharply, the hall rotating into a reverse "L" shape. I reached the end of the corridor, and walked through the high arch that opened up into the living room. My mother and father weren't present, and I had a feeling I was alone in my big mansion.

I was used to being alone, so I wasn't feeling much different. I began to explore the house, wondering what new things I could discover.

Nothing interesting in my room. All the toys seemed bland and dull, and my box of crayons didn't deserve attention. There was no way anything would make me want to read my parent's books. They all didn't make sense.

"Unity and Metamorphosis….Dr. Sofia Lamb…_Livre Absurde."_

I hadn't spoken in my native tongue for quite a while: it technically wasn't my native tongue: I was taught English and French almost simultaneously, then Russian, Polish, German, and finally Spanish. My parents believed the more languages I learned, the more my brain would excel.

I walked to my parent's bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary, a sink, a tub, and a toilet. Greenish-blue tiles covered the entirety of the room, and some pluming was visible. My mother had a vanity set in the corner of the room, whitewashed and complete with drawer. I was never one for intuition but something strange drew me towards the drawer. As if the impulse came from nowhere. I sensed an aura of red. I opened up the drawer. Beauty products tumbled from the back of the cabinet. Blush pads and brushes clinked around. An unopened pack of cigarettes lay over some blue papers, with butterflies (ones identical to the strange book from my parent's library). I always wondered why so many people wore butterflies down in Rapture. My father wouldn't let me talk to them, even the children. I wondered for some time if it might have been the cities official animal, but it didn't make any logical sense.

The aura became more vivid, and it was coming from a dirty glass vial that was plugged with a spongy cork. Inside, a thick red fluid (too thick to be blood, but not thick enough to be something like dyed plaster) sloshed around, leaving no stains on the cork or the interior of the bottle. It seemed to glow, to pulse with energy.

Was it some kind of alcohol? A new fruit drink? My curiosity was peaked: I had to know what was in the vial. And was my mother hiding it? Why?

The questions dissipated as I wedged out the cork, the fluid splashing around a bit. I raised the vial to my lips, it was freezing, and slowly let the liquid funnel itself into my mouth, and down my throat. A sheer sense of wholesome gratification spread across my entire body; like a rose slowly extending out from its bulb, the delicate flowers swooshing out. I felt energized, like a god. I could do anything in that moment; run a marathon, swim in the ocean, beat up a shark, lift up the bathtub, anything. It was the best feeling in the world, and as I felt it pass, I tried to will my brain to make it stay.

But it passed, and then a throbbing pain slashed its way into my intestines. It was like a flaming shard of glass being shoved into me, cutting up my intestines into bloody ribbons. A severely itchy feeling made its way up my neck, and my throat swelled. It was difficult to breathe, and I was scratching my throat roughly, as it became red and bloody spots began to surface. I lunged forward, dropping to my knees as warm, sticky bile erupted from my mouth and splattered onto the floor. It coated my hands, as hot sweat dripped down from my forehead. I managed to pick myself up, my body beginning to ache.

"Aahahhhhhh!"

My quick little yelp was followed by a loud bang. I landed on my back, little daggers of pain pushing onto my muscles. Still under the influence of the ADAM (the substance was unknown to me at the time), my vision swirled and pulses of red stuck to my peripheral vision. Little black dots appeared everywhere. I couldn't focus, I was wavering over the edge of losing consciousness. I tried to force myself up, but then fell back hard, my sight gone.

I woke up on the bathroom floor. The vial was in shards, cluttering the floor. The back of my head was sticky. I lightly swabbed my head with my index finger, and it returned to me dripping with blood. I started to panic, which sent a wave of nausea and dizziness over me. I sank back down to the floor, then proceeded calmly. I slowly reached my father's end table, and pulled out a first aid box. I wrapped my wounded head, but the pain was immense.

I wanted my parents. I had no idea where my father was, but I knew my mother was at the New Year's Eve Party at the Kashmir Lounge. I dreaded the long voyage to the Lighthouse District, but I couldn't be alone in the present conditions. So I changed from pajamas into a nice shirt, trousers, and shoes. I headed out into the world, and it was unknown to me it was the last time I would ever set foot in my house again before the war….


	2. The Journey and the Strangers

**Bioshock Forever (Rewrite)**

**Chapter Two**

AS LIKE IN MY ORIGINAL "BIOSHOCK: FOREVER", AREAS IN RAPTURE ARE A MIX OF BIOSHOCK 2 MULTIPLAYER AREAS AND ORIGINAL BIOSHOCK AREAS. ALSO, SLIGHT BIOSHOCK: INFINITE SPOILERS ARE INCLUDED IN THIS STORY.

* * *

_**DECEMBER 31, 1958, LITTLE EDEN PLAZA, RAPTURE**_

I opened up my front door, and stepped down a steep flight of stairs down to the 3rd floor balcony of the Plaza. I made sure that the door was firmly locked, and continued towards the Bathysphere. The Plaza was beautiful; vibrant reds and shining gold's. Wooden-panel floors and reddish-brown square tiles lined the floor. High, thin pillars painted shiny gold grew out to the ceiling, matching the golden railings of the balcony. Posters for Sander Cohen's musicals and deals for 40% off rooms at "The Pearl" (Later known as the Pink Pearl) lined the shiny gradient walls. Although the political strain between Atlas and Ryan was at a boiling point, the city was still hanging on to glory: but that would change in a mere few hours. The glorious Rapture would die that night. And in the rebirth, a bloody dystopia would take its place.

All of this info was unknown to me, though. At the time the only thing I knew of Atlas was that he was of Irish descent, and that colorful posters and propaganda were sewn all around Rapture. The only things I knew about Ryan came from eavesdropping on my parents, and what I learned after many fieldtrips to Ryan Amusements.

So I just paraded through Little Eden Plaza, my head and body still pulsing with a hot pain, my stomach swirling itself into knots from anxiety. The plaza was mostly quiet. The shops were servicing only a few, and you only heard the loud "Cashing!" of the cash register every few minutes. I slowly made my way around a corner, my feet dragging along the velvet carpet of the balcony. I passed doors of apartments, all quiet, except from some, where loud yelling could be heard. Maybe a couple? It reminded me of my parents going off on each other earlier that night, which caused a bitter taste to slip into my mouth, as if I was sucking on a penny. A coppery, bronzy taste which made my mouth water in discomfort.

I had reached the stairs. Very steep stairs, which made me, worry about my dizzy composure. I slumped down the flight of stairs until I reached the bottom floor. Golden lights washing over me, I could clearly see the exit, a bulky, silver SECURIS air-locked door that was hulking in the corner of the beautiful hall, a large eyesore among the gorgeous.

The Securis door unhatched itself, the gears and metal arches twirling rapidly, and then the door flew up, revealing a hallway, with cylinder glass walls and ceilings. The ocean was beautiful, the many neon lights advertising for "Fort Frolic" and "Plasmids" illuminating the sea. Schools of fish sped past, and I even caught a glimpse of a swordfish. Glowing pink coral was common around Rapture, so it was no surprise to see a garden of the stuff hanging off the far wall of Siren Alley's exterior.

I could see, a few meters away, the bright black and red sign labeled "RAPTURE METRO". I could have taken the Atlantic Express, but the docking station was all the way near the Little Sister Orphanage. It was much quicker to take the local Bathysphere.

A strike of red hit my vision as my knees buckled. I could feel the bile rising in my mouth, but I willed it do go down. I wave of intense heat, and then cold approached, as draining sweat slicked my forehead. I needed help.

I pressed on, trying to comfort myself in the fact that in a few minutes my mom would be by my side, taking care of me.

I had reached the end of the tunnel, and walked into a brown, steel panel room. There was nothing but wooden docks for a floor, and I was constantly watching my step, not wanting to fall into the cold, deep waters only inches below me: I wasn't a good swimmer.

The room was separated by high-pointed wrought-iron fence, slicing through the interior dividing the room between the docks and the Bathysphere station. To my right, the wooden paths lead to a pile of clothes and ravaged steam trunks. I continued down straight, turning right, then right again, till I was in front of the bathysphere. It was a smaller bathysphere, nowhere near the size of the Lighthouse District's.

There was no pilot, but I had read a good number of Rapture books, one of which gave a detailed instruction on how to operate a bathysphere. The large glass door opened up with a burst of steam, and I entered.

The inside was very formal but comfortable, gold lined couches made of red velvet on each side. A polished Brass interior. A large arm holding "The Great Chain". A small flood-light fixture at the center of the ceiling. And in the center of the floor a golden lever and many mechanics.

I walked inside. I pulled the lever. On the control station holding the lever, a little sign read "Adonis Resort". Wrong location. I pulled the lever again. "Dionysus Park". I pulled the lever until it read "Lighthouse District". I pressed a little knob that was labeled "ACCELERATION".

With a small jump and a clicking noise, the door shut, and I sank into the water.

I had always enjoyed Bathysphere rides. My parents and I usually used the Atlantic Express in the first years of Rapture, but after the declining popularity of the trains we invested in public and personal bathyspheres. I would've taken our personal bathysphere, but (when we bought it) there wasn't enough room in our Siren Alley home, because of pipes and vents, so we had it created in our Arcadia vacation home.

I sat on the velvety couch, my head leaning on the glass door. I much wished that I was in Arcadia. I wished I hadn't drunk the mysterious liquid. I wished my parents hadn't argued, leaving me all alone. But even in Rapture, time travel wasn't invented.

A large "_CLICK_" sound emerged, shaking the bathysphere and I jumped, startled. The Bathysphere light dimmed as I realized we were inside the docking platform. In big neon letters I saw "**LIGHTHOUSE DISTRICT: WELCOME CENTER**". Bubbles coated a thick layer in front of the door, disabling my vision. I could just see traces of Plasmid posters, statues with numbers on them. We were rising, and I could feel the pressure faintly disappearing.

_SPLASH! _

In a flurry of dancing water, the bathysphere emerged, slick water pouring down from the roof of the sub. After a few faint noises, a burst of steam followed the door opening, and a cold breeze came from the room.

There were many bright lights, and confetti was being shot from golden poppers everywhere. All the citizens in the area were wearing colorful masks of ravens, cats, bunnies, peacocks, crabs, butterflies, almost any animal you could think of. The women wore shining dresses of red, yellow, white, and blue. The men were in fine tuxedos, showing of their wealth and grandeur.

But there was something off about all of them. I could see the shiny tint of a gun on some of them. I also saw a pair of men holding up a vial, containing the same unknown liquid I had digested earlier that evening.

The people, under all their fancy clothes and makeup, were deformed. My eyes widened as I saw liquid-filled tumors on a man's arm. One person's face was smashed in, wrapped in bandages. One woman's foot had morphed into the shape of a high stiletto. All the atrocities made me want to gag.

I stumbled through the halls, making my way to the tunnel that lead to the Kashmir Restaurant People stopped and stared at me for a while: Who was this boy? Why did he look so ill? They never truly asked me these questions, but the hushed whispers and looks on their faces showed that they at least seemed to care.

Only a few minutes before Atlas's raid, and I was clumsily tumbling through the halls of the Lighthouse District. I reached the elevator plaza. Large golden elevator shafts spiraled up what looked like 50 feet up. Plants and fountains lined the center of the room, and flags denoting "SCIENCE" and "ARTS" and "CULTURE" were posted generously across the hall. I walked along the stone floor reaching the elevator lobby.

I managed to squish my way into a crowded elevator. A loud CLUNK send shivers up my spine as we slowly rose up. It was a grand sight, seeing the shining golden and brass halls. A swirling aura of fun and partying was masking the initial sense of doom. As we reached the next floor, music floated through the air. "Sing, sing, sing" was playing, and it was coming from the Kashmir Restaurant. As the elevator opened and the people flooded out, to my right, a large, bright, neon sign shone out in the gloomy dark. "**KASHMIR RESTAURANT: RAPTURE'S FINEST CUISINE**". I was sure my mother was in there. I walked through the tunnel, and reached the metal door that separated the elevator lobby and the restaurant apart.

I was close to the door, it was opening, and then a faint voice echoed out."

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you."

I quickly spun to my left, and hiding in the shadows were a man and woman. Both with blondish/red hair, a defined face and same eye color. They seemed so out-of-place. A foreign aura surrounded them.

"Yes I must have to agree."

The woman spoke out. The two must have been related, they looked like a mirror image of the other. They didn't wear familiar clothing. The man wore a light brown suit and polished slacks, while the woman wore a brown vest, white blouse, and the same light brown pants. They seemed distant. There clothes looked as if they were from the early 1900's.

"What do you mean? Who are you?"

"Well, dear child, we are-"

"The _Lutece twins_."

"Do you find it odd sister that we sometimes-"

"Finish each other's sentences? I would find it odd if we didn't."

I couldn't help but stare at them as if they were speaking nonsense.

"Oh stop it Rosalind you're scaring the poor child."

"It's not my fault. This thought experiment was _your idea_ in the first place."

They seem to start bickering. I shrug and continue on. But they stop me.

"What do you want? I need to see my mother!"

"Tsk tsk. So impatient."

"We just want to help you. You'll regret if you go looking for your mother in there."

"Why? I'm injured I need her help."

"Oh I see. Even still, you'll regret."

I had had enough of their nonsense.

"Just leave me alone!"

I rushed into the restaurant, hearing only a faint noise from the too as the music's volume increased.

"We tried to warn him…"

"Oh well, we always have next time…"

"Yes, we _always_ have next time…"


	3. The Massacre Party

**Bioshock: Forever (REWRITE)**

**Chapter Three**

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS STORY WILL INCLUDE A SLIGHT MIX BETWEEN RAPTURE AND COLUMBIA IN FUTURE CHAPTERS.

_**December 31, 1958, Kashmir Restaurant **_

After the dizzying conversation held with the odd strangers, I nearly ran into the Restaurant. I was losing focus now; and black/red dots swirled in my peripheral vision. I couldn't really see very well, everything had I slight blurry glow to it. The gold and platinum lamps were just a blinding white aura in the scene my mind interpreted. The large reception desk was being manned by a woman in a butterfly-no, a cat mask. Her red hair glowed like flames.

"_I need help"_

I said to myself in my mind while walking passes the reception room, to the left and up the stairs. I reached the main dining hall, and was greeted with the sound of glorious music being played from many meters away on the shining stage. The blow of the trumpets and loud clunking of the drums called my nerves. I looked around the room, no one resembling my mother. She wasn't at a table, not picking up food from the buffet, not dancing near the stage, not smoking in the shadows of the hallways. I was becoming frustrated. I took the right corridor and went down a flight of stairs to reach the KASHMIR BAR.

The lighting here was dimmer, and it seemed a little more seedy. At the bar I saw a woman, beautiful blond hair, sparkling eyes, pressing the record button on a recorder.

"I guess I'll just have another drink…Here's to Diane McClintock, the silliest girl in Rapture…"

She sees me in her peripheral vision, and quickly pauses the recording tape, emitting a loud "Click" sound. She has gorgeous vanilla hair, with hints of brown. Her eyes are a crystal blue and crinkle sincerely when I approach her. They are red circles around her eyes, and I can tell she has spent quite some time crying. She smiles sadly at me and whispers gently.

"Hey kid? Are you alright? You don't look so good!"

I patted my bandage and could feel the soggy paper where it has become slick with blood. I tried my best to plaster a smile.

"Oh no I'll be fine. I came here to get my mother. Have you seen anyone named Jacquelyn Gray?"

She sighs heavily and I can see that she really wished she did, because she seemed to truly care about my wellbeing.

"No. I'm sorry, but I'm sure she's around here somewhere."

She anxiously picked up a cocktail, complete with sugar and umbrella, and swirled it, the small pineapple wedge inside toppling into a small whirlpool. She looks at me once more.

"Are you sure you're okay? I can give you a lift to the Medical Pavilion."

I open my mouth to respond, but a foul taste of bile coats my mouth and I gag. My vision turns blackish red, and lines of a darker red zigzag around my vision. The kind and beautiful woman is warped into an ugly, dirt-covered monster hiding its deformed face behind a cracked rabbit-mask. She spreads talon-like claws at me and digs them into my throat. I can't breathe, blood is pouring from my neck, and my head rolls back. I-I'm dying…

"Hey I asked if you're alright."

The music of the gramophone returns, and the red color drains away. Diane is looking at me strangely, and waiting for me to respond. I look down at my neck, no puncture wounds or blood. It…it was just a hallucination. I needed help.

"Uh-Yeah, yeah I am fine. Thanks for the concern, Ms. McClintock."

"No problem kid."

I stumble past her, my vision pulsing between regular and maroon. I look over the balcony, and below the huge statue of Atlas holding up the world, I saw her: my mother. But hardly recognizable. Her beautiful bone structure was warped into cartilage, so all of her previous angles were just moppy flabs of flesh. Her nose was crooked slightly to the right, and one of her eyes was a blurry yellow. I quickly run down to the bottom floor, and nearly crash into her, hugging her tightly.

"Mom, mom! I drank something, and I hit my head. I'm bleeding real badly! You have to help me!"

She looks at me like I'm a feral cat sitting on her porch, disgusted. Her friends whisper among themselves such as 'my god what is that brat doing here?' and 'little brats having to ruin everything.' But I hardly care. I'm on the verge of passing out. My legs are shaking horribly. She quickly grabs my hand, and drags me off to a corner, a little sister vent stuck awkwardly in the corner.

"Why are you here Ash?" She half yelled, half whispered.

"I'm hurt! Help me!"

She reaches for my head, and goes tsk tsk.

"It's just a little cut Ash. Stop being ridiculous go home mommy is partying!"

"No look! Look! I'm HURT. HELP ME!"

She slaps me hastily. She seemed to explode in that very moment.

"GOD DAMN IT WHY CAN'T YOU AND YOUR FATHER LEAVE ME ALONE! GO FIND HIM AND TELL HIM THAT I-"

_BAM! PING, PING! BOOM!_

Out of impulse I ducked down and shuffled over behind the bar counter. Smoke poured from the left corner of the room. The laughter of the party had mixed into tears and screams of agony. I looked up, which was a horrible mistake. I saw my mother, her leg blown off from a grenade, her blood soaking the regal floor, her wailing and incessant screaming. It rang in my ears and my vision drowned in red once more. The bartender and gone into the fight, shooting with what looked like an old shotgun. The decanters, gold plates, and bottles of liquor shattered onto the ground as machine gun rounds lodged themselves in the wooden shelves just behind and above me the shells crackling down on the floor around me.

"Ah-Ah-gah!"

I began to choke on the smoke. I felt sweat forming in small droplets. It was becoming very hot in the bar. I peeked up to see a plump man burning. _Burning_. Blue and orangish red flames engulfed him. He yelped.

"HELP ME! AAH IT BURNS! PLEASE! AHH!"

I tracked the source of the flames to a woman, with the word 'ATLAS scrawled over her dress. Her arm was covered by a tendril of fire, but it did not hurt her. Her skin had slightly melted away because of the heat, and little crackles of ash disinigrated from her palm. It was Incinerate! Plasmid. A bullet case landed on my hand, and I screamed out in agony, as the hot metal burned through my palm. A small, round rash rose up and I hugged my hand tightly.

The fighting continued. A freezing pulse of Winter Blast shot at a man in blue, a woman fighting back against the raid using a nail gun and Insect Swarm. The entire time the raiders shuffling things into large black bags.

In the loud fuss, all that was a reminder of the once fun party was a toppled record player, scratchily playing 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schön.

I nearly jump into the air as a firm but gentle hand grabs my arm. It is Diane McClintock, but her once graceful face is now ruined with a huge gash running down her forehead to her chin. Blood oozed from the porous wound as she picked me up.

"Run kid! Run as fast as you can!"

She carries me, and I bounce up and down in her strong arms. We clunk up the stairs, into the main dining hall, but it was so graphic and gory that I couldn't possibly describe it. I just closed my eyes, until we reach the Welcome Center Plaza. I see the elevators, one shaft is completely broken and on fire. Diane, splattered with blood, shakes her head quickly, trying to think.

"Aha!"

She nearly trips trying to get to a little sister vent.

"Get in quick! Run, hide!"

She stuffs me into the vent, and then rushes into an elevator, just as a horde of raiders enter the lobby. I crawled through the darkness, the clock ticking down to my demise as Ashton Gray, and my rebirth as a _little brother_…


	4. The First Day Alone

_**Bioshock FOREVER**_

_**Chapter 4**_

Author's note: I hope your enjoying this story. I'm trying to stretch out the beginning and I'll add waaaay more stuff later on. Oh and sorry if I mix up past and present tense I get a little distracted sorry XD. And I'm really trying to pump out these stories on a tight schedule, but I prefer quality over quantity, so if I don't update once ever 2-4 weeks, its cause I'm trying to probably revise paragraphs/plot/etc. Thanks for your patience!

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Everything in the bar was quiet, except for the toppled record player coarsely echoing 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schön'. The statue of Atlas was barely intact, one of his legs shattered, the stone toes laced across the floor. The dance hall's ceiling was splintered open from where a grenade had exploded mid-air. From the fissure, the dark and salty sea water flooded in a splashing fountain. The ligneous bar stools were drenched in blood from where the citizens turn on each other and proceeded to bash in the heads of anyone they saw. If you were quiet enough, you could hear the faint sounds of screaming, ghostly images of what had happened there. The bar was coated with bullet holes, knife marks and shattered glass bottles of "Green Fairy Absinthe" and "Blue Moon Whiskey". The shelves holding up the glasses were either fastened in or fragmented into many pieces. The door to the kitchen was locked, and for extra measure, the woman who was hiding inside ('Brenda' as people called her, the owner of the Kashmir Restaurant) had used Winter Blast to freeze the door dense. She herself had been present for the raid and her fine fur-coated and velvet coat was tainted with dried blood, and she wore a butterfly mask to cover the unsightly wounds to her eye. She shakily held a pistol, making sure every chamber was loaded with a fine-cased bullet. She sighed as she knew…

_She needed every single one._

_**January 1, 1959, the Rapture Ventilation Systems, Rapture: Ashton Gray**_

I knew it was well past midnight. I just knew it. I didn't know how though. I guess after watching a massacre in the making, your gut starts to take control. After being shoved into the Hidey Hole Vent, I just panicked for a while, pure adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. I couldn't help but thank god, or whatever that is up there for making me so agile and small.

I had known previously of the little girls with the glowing eyes that roamed freely around Rapture. They first started showing up around 1956-1957. During that time there wasn't any big daddies commissioned to protect the little ones, so anyone could walk up to the young girls with the glowing eyes. I remember childhood days playing with them, hopscotch, tag, hide and seek; those were the good days. But then people started to hunt them down; my playmates began to vanish one by one. I had no idea at the time that they had either been 'disposed' of because they couldn't carry anymore ADAM, or they were murdered by the denizens of the city. But those who remained were now accompanied by huge hulking and bulky monstrosities nicknamed 'Big Daddies'. My parents wouldn't let me near them and if one was close, it was taboo to be spotted anywhere near.

I had only a vague idea why the girls were associated with the air vents. I had a cloudy memory of reading a history book, stating and I quote: "The oldest buildings of Rapture, such as Point Prometheus and Hephaestus had a system of vents leading to Arcadia, Rapture's main source of oxygen, known for the splendid forests and gardens in the area. But as little sisters came into use, the Rapture government modified the vent system so the vents could act as safe passageways the girls could use to get in and out of the many districts of the city. All of the modified vents would lead to an area in Arcadia in which the girl could then choose a different vent to exit the chamber and enter the desired district."

So with that knowledge in my mind, I traversed the seemingly endless tunnel. It was pitch black, and I had grown weary of my direction quite a few times. This experience reminded me of an artic explorer, while exploring the tundra he gets stuck in a snowstorm, and because of the bright snow, he loses all sense of up and down, left and right.

I just crawl forward, then to the left, then a sharp turn to the right. A few minutes later I fall down what seems like a few feet, and I feel around. The tunnel continues on. It seems endless until I finally see the dim light of a sky-light (or should I say and ocean-light, because all clear ceilings show the sea), and grass and trees.

I clank down onto the metal step of the vent, and then jump down, my feet digging into the dirt. The room is medium sized and circular, a clear glass roof, and vents all around the walls, with signs above each one: "To Arcadia", "To Fort Frolic", "To Neptune's Bounty". They are endless every single name of each district is written in large neon lights above the brass hidey holes.

_Where do I want to go?_

In the heat of the moment, I hadn't truly thought of my goal. I guess it was to escape, but after escaping, what would you do? I was certain my home wasn't safe, and I wasn't just going to go back to the Lighthouse District after the very long journey to the Crossroad Chamber (A little nickname I made up for the room I was in). The chamber seemed safe and quiet, and I considered living here. But other than a small blueberry bush, there was no way of getting food. And I was sure that I couldn't live on just a blueberry a day. Where would I get new clothes, bathe, and no bathroom? I was just so overwhelmed in the situation that all these thoughts raced my mind in literally only seconds.

Because of such high levels of stress and exhaust (and my wounds from slipping in the bathroom still untreated), my legs turn to jelly and I collapse onto the earthy grass. My eyes fluttered, and the last thing I saw was the ocean and the willow tree hanging overhead.

I awake, but I don't expect any sunshine to peek out from the windows; no, the only source of light I have is the burning oil lamps clutched to the walls and floodlights on each corner of the ceiling. High vents (not little sister vents, but small ones covered in aluminum fencing) blew out fresh air.

I had always loved Arcadia; So many fieldtrips and family gatherings. Speakers strung along cords in the walls jazzed out La Mer: Beyond the Sea. I had always loved music, but I presently didn't have time for such things. My tongue was cracking from thirst, my stomach growled. On the bright side, the negative effects of the 'mystery substance' had vanished, and the miracle drug had cured the gash on my head.

It is quiet in the chamber. I wish to just stay here, but I cannot. I need food, water, and supplies. But I thought to myself, is all of Rapture fighting? Or is it just in the Lighthouse District? I decided to find out myself, and heave myself up into the vent leading to Arcadia Proper, using the molded leaf pattern on the object to hoist me up. I clank loudly through the thin tunnel, sliding left, right, right again, climb up (luckily there are slight creases in the metal to act as small stairs).

_**January 1, 1959, Tea Garden Proper, Arcadia, Rapture: Ashton Gray**_

I poke my head of the darkness slowly and quietly, my nose filling with the smell of rich pine, and fruity flowers. I seemed to have landed in the Tea Garden, as the bright neon sign reads of that name. It is quiet, just as in the chamber. The waterfall beneath the Tea Shop patio flows serenely into a stream that cuts through the dark green grass. Two red bridges connect the two pieces of land divided by the small river. The area is littered with benches and oddly, alien-looking, glowing flowers blooming from dark green leafy bushes and trees. To the left of the hidey hole is the tunnel leading to the Memorial Gardens Mausoleum, and the Bathysphere tunnel.

I climbed out, a feeling of safety washed over me. I breathed out heavily, relief obvious.

I walked up to the tea shop, empty.

_Hm…odd._

The usually bustling shoppe was completely empty. The stone walls that were lathered in tannish-paint were splattered with the too-familiar red substance. I made a faint choking noise and my eyes widened, but nothing more. I guess I had adapted to the overwhelming carnage. The dim-lights fluttered on and off every few seconds, creating hypnotic shadows. The many white-washed wrought-iron table-and-chair matching sets were flung wildly around the room. The cash register looked as if it had taken quite a beating, yet still held firm.

In such drastic conditions, a little money would help. So I walked behind the counter, and I examined it. Someone had tried to steal from the shiny metal box, yet didn't understand that he could have simply pressed the open button. I almost giggled, if I wasn't covered in the blood of a dozen deceased people. I pressed open and a silver shelf with crisp dollars wrapped in thin gold paper flung itself out. I took out all the bills and counted $34.21.

I deemed myself an angel at the time, but I needed that money. I was starving and thirsty. I managed to walk out into the Rolling Hills, in which I found a conveniently placed 'Circus of Values'. The latest models towered over the patron, but this seemed to be an older model, as it was only a foot or two taller than me (lest we not forget I was only seven). The blinking yellow, red, white and blue neon lights made my eyes strain. The cackling, annoying clown voice was just worsening my mood: "WELCOME TO THE CIRCUS OFFFFF VALUUUUUSE~~~~~~!"

I looked at the ordinate box. There were three rows of pictures, hidden behind clear glass. Each picture had a price printed alongside it. There wasn't much selection. I could buy a crème-filled-cake for $5.95 or I could get a Pep Bar for $7.20. I think for a moment, and decide that the less pricey option is best. I pressed the button that displays the crème-filled-cake, and in a few seconds a clanking noise is made and at the bottom of the machine my cake lays in a large crevasse.

The voice of a clown sputtered something unimportant, because I heard loud, sharp footsteps clicking on the wooden bridge just outside the room. I ran to the southern part of the room, and into a corner, trying to fade into the shrubbery that consumes the wall. The automatic door to the east opened, and two macho-looking men in pinstriped zoot-suits and matching hats walked in, each holding a tommy gun. One was chomping on a rare Cuban cigar, while the other cautiously darted his eyes around the room and anxiously rubbed his mustache, like he knew someone is watching.

"Are you sure Atlas said to do this? I mean-isn't hacking into Rapture vendings and selling ammo quite…punishable?"

The man that was chomping on the cigar seemed disgusted, and whispered.

"Punishable? By who? Ryan? He ain't got no power no' more! Rapture's gone to hell, and frankly, it's everyman for himself."

The anxious man bit down on his lip, and proceeded to help the other man hack into the machine, using an odd looking devise that seemed to be a mix of a screwdriver and a power-drill. One man opened a huge duffel bag filled with rounds upon rounds of shotgun, machine, and pistol ammo.

The man was right; Hell and adopted a new name. And it was Rapture.


	5. The Remembering

_**Bioshock Forever Rewrite**_

_**Chapter 5**_

Many of the plot ideas are actually modified ideas from cut Bioshock/Bioshock 2 concepts that never made it into the games. Such as the 'little brother' concept. Again, thanks for reading and review! Sorry for the bad chapter, I just needed a filler chapter before the real action starts

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_**February 9, 1959, Ryan's Office, Hephaestus, Rapture. **_

The room was filled with nervous coughs and anxious eye-swatting. The meeting was issued by Ryan, just a few hours before. Sander Cohen fiddled with the tails of his fine suit (still splendid and beautiful, as the city hadn't completely fallen, but it was set to derail, it was just a matter of time). Bill McDonagh was staring deeply out into the ocean, looking at the exterior of the city that he had built. The others all seemed to chat quietly, while Andrew Ryan, the bloody king of Rapture, stood over his desk, zooming in on a report.

"Well, I'll be the first to break the silence", McDonagh had said in his rich Cockney accent, with a small chuckle that went unappreciated, "Why have you called this meeting, Mr. Ryan?"

Ryan seemed to withdrawal from his plans, and faced the people who were either important assets or the governors of the Districts. He folded his arms.

"Well…It has come to my attention that Atlas and his followers seemed to have infiltrated the Vending Machines and filled them with ammo. With this bold move, I decided that a fully-functional ammo/weapon vendor would aid in destroying the parasites."

The group seemed shocked. Didn't Ryan know supplying more weapons and ammunition would only fuel the fire?

"Um…sir, don't you believe that would only escalate the turmoil of the city? If any citizen can bear arms, it may be irreversible."

Andrew Ryan seemed annoyed, but he continued anyway.

"Yes, I do. But if the followers of that damned Atlas have weapons, I want those loyal to the great chain to be able to protect themselves. Either way, Mr. Sinclair has already created the first batch of 'El Ammo Bandito' Vending machines."

A little smirk seemed to cross Ryan's face as the quirky name humored him. He was extraordinarily tired, and he was running only by the sweet power of ADAM and coffee. He grumbled as he drank another thermostat of ADAM-enhanced coffee. He needed to visit Jolene.

"Oh and on another matter, there are many reports of a young, male child using the little sister vents to travel. There are many accounts of thefts as well. "

"So you mean—"

"That boy is trying to survive on his own. Yes, I can attain that much. If he is alone, I think he would be the perfect candidate for the Little Brother Program…"

"But sir, all of the other test subjects have failed! They are too aggressive!"

He just mutely shooed the worrier off with his hand.

He clicked a button on his desk, turning on an intercom to Sullivan's office.

"Mr. Sullivan, please send a group of splicers to…'obtain', this child…"

_**February 14, 1959, Kashmir Restaurant, Lighthouse District , Rapture: Ashton Gray**_

_The boy crept around the corner of the hallway, clutching the flourishing arch, looking out at the large atrium. The room was still bright, and lit up with vivid signs advertising everything you could think of. The atrium was still full of people, and they seemed to be oblivious of the violent murders that had happened just two months ago, in a district not so far from the currently area. They all seemed to wear masks, dreamy masks that were splashed bold colors. Purple and gold light shimmered from stage-lamps hanging above, the ceiling transparent, and the dim greenish-blue ocean visible, and pods of dolphins darting past. He inched closer to the general populace. They were hurrily clustering into Fleet Hall or to Eve's Garden. The boy, out of pure obedience, made sure not to follow the men to the 'bad' club. Instead, he walked up the stairs to Poseidon's Plaza, scavenging. He looked through trashcans, picking up the odd crème-filled-cake and first-aid kit. He shuffled quickly; making sure no one saw his looting. But the plaza was entirely empty. He muttered thanks to whatever is up there in Eden, and continued his way into the dim-lit shoppe. It was dusty, and obviously empty. But it was rich with cash, food, and water. He nearly went into frenzy as he stuffed as much as he could in his pockets and the large messenger bag he had stolen earlier that month from a mail carrier in Apollo's Square. But even as he was making quite audible noise, he could still here the tiny sound of footsteps. Then they became louder. He tried to hide behind a shelf, but to no avail. He was terrified as he stared into the hollow, crazy eyes of the man, his face horribly disfigured with a thick bandage wrapped around his forehead. He walked with a gimp and had a revolver in his hand._

"_This-this here is my shop! What are you doing with my stuff? Give it back, give it BACK!"_

_Blood splattered the wall as the boy fell with a quick yelp._

I woke up in a startled mess of sweat and shakiness. I soon relaxed as I realized it was all just a dream. But it actually happened; well at least, some of it. I was cornered by a man in a shop, the first splicer I had met since the bombing, but the scenario ended quite differently in real life. I managed to scramble away, but ever since then, I've had horrible nightmares.

I could hardly believe it was Valentine's Day. Fort Frolic would be abust with young couples flowing into Fleet Hall to watch a romantic comedy; Arcadia would be soaked in wine as the romantically involved had dates in the Rolling Hills or Tea Garden. The salty old workers at Neptune's Bounty would be allowed a day off to be with their sweethearts, lounging in the Fighting McDonagh's

But no, not this year. It had been only a few months since the raid on the Kashmir Restaurant, and people still cowered in their homes. During my scavenging in the city, I had heard a couple speaking near a hidey-hole in Olympus Heights around the end of January. They were quietly muttering about how there was unrest in Pauper's Drop (which at the time was named Maintenance Junction 17 at the time), and in Neptune's Bounty. They talked long about how Ryan was starting to design combat-focused plasmids, and how guns and ammo became as cheap as dirt. In the first months of 1959, only the Rapture military and the Atlas resistance fought. Starting around May, all of the spliced up citizens would begin to immerse themselves.

So, I was careful in avoiding Pauper's Drop and Neptune's Bounty at all costs. I had been in contact with the new splicers, and I started to scavenge less and less, becoming more worried I would be captured.

But it was necessity that drove me from the peaceful vent-chamber, and out into the Lighthouse District. I had emerged in the vent that was inside the Kashmir Restaurant just next to the bathrooms and the pay phones.

The horrible memories of the raid made me sick. No matter how hard I tried, they were scorched permanently into my mind. This was the place I lost my mother…

I could see to the right, the entrance to the Silk Lounge, and the dining hall. I hadn't seen inside the areas, and I wasn't planning to. The downstairs bar was quiet, and I wouldn't dare go down there. But I made my way to the main floor, and my mouth filled with bile: blood, just…._everywhere! _Bodies were slung all around, and some were rotting, the flesh turning black and green. I couldn't help but vomit. Cold sweat formed. I wanted to get out, but I had no food left in the vent-chamber. I would starve.

I managed to salvage a loaf of bread from a table, and a crème filled cake from one of the corpses. She was a woman in elegant clothing, a string of diamonds wrapped around her bruised neck. Even in death, she seemed to still radiate a royal aura.

I searched and searched, but there was nothing else in the room but gallons of Merlot, and I Wasn't interested. The kitchen door was frozen and jammed shut, and I had nothing to open it. So, I walked to the Footlight Theater, through the door in the corner of the bar. It also was stained red. The Art Deco Theater was quiet, except for the slight buzz the lights of the room made. There was a corpse on the stage in the far left corner, and although it sickened me, I ransacked him, checking for anything in his pockets, wallet, and vest.

Then suddenly, I heard a ringing noise as I was hit in the head with a crowbar. All I could hear was wicked laughter.


	6. The Recruitment

_**Bioshock Forever: Rewritten**_

_Chapter Six_

_**February 14, 1959,** **Footlight Theater, Kashmir Restaurant, Lighthouse District, Rapture: Ashton Gray:**_

Being battered down with a crowbar is a very painful experience. For the first few seconds, you just think "What?", and you have a pounding feeling. Not pain, just pressure. Then, after another few seconds, your head starts to shriek in pain. When I was falling to the ground, I could literally feel every single nerve in my body sending electrical impulses of pain to my brain, and it was horrifying. I could tell I was bleeding, inside or outside, was the question. I didn't resist at first, I just fell onto the cold wooden stage, and curled into a fetal position. I screamed out, only to have burning, rough hands latch onto my throat, my voice cracking. I could barely breathe, and pressure started to turn my face red. I gazed up at my attackers.

It was a man who was choking me, in a plaid black suit, its collar torn and the tie splattered red. He wore no shoes, and many bloody cuts and shards of glass were visible in his dirty feet. He was extraordinarily strong, and you could see the veins in his arms pumping up, adrenaline kicking in. He had brown hair, and dark stubble. His face was in a somber frown, and I could see in his eyes that he intended to kill me.

To his right was a woman in a slinky dress. It was glittery and shone an opaque grey. She had short black hair, and her face was hidden behind a Raven mask. She held a large pipe in her hands. She whispered.

"Look't that, I didn't know they started to make male versions of those little brats."

They all nodded.

To the brown-haired man's right, was a smaller man, who was quite lanky. He wore a messy outfit that noted he was a Fisheries worker. His blue overcoat was covered in slimy barnacles and he wore heavy rain boots. He was bald and had an evil appearance. He held a revolver in his hand.

I was starting to black out. I screamed using all of the oxygen left in my tiny body.

"HELP! PLEASE—"

The fisheries man walked over and cupped his hand over my mouth, hard. He pressed down on my teeth, and my gums protested by bleeding. The metallic taste in my mouth made me want to puke. My eyes widened. I flashed them across the room, looking for anything to help me; nothing on the stage but the corpse, the theater was empty, nothing but Art Deco walls and floors. The door leading out to the main lobby was so far away…

"Umfowhf! ASpnvfibn!"

I was just spluttering out random sounds at that point, my body was trying to tell me I was dying but I wouldn't listen; I bit at the man and scratched. The man who was choking me now focused on my stomach, and he pressed his hand on it. I gasped for breath, and then a new sensation of pain washed over me as I felt the man's fingers drive into my stomach. Blood flowed from the wounds as I screamed and screamed. I could feel his dirty hands squishing around my muscles, looking for something. He was grunting in disbelief.

"Where is that slug?"

What? I was going to die because they were looking for a slug?

Saliva and blood mixed into a liquid as it poured down my lips onto my face. I stopped moving by then, and the man continued to just search for the slug. My eyesight began to dim, until I heard something.

_POW! POW!_

"UNZIP HIM MR. B!"

The man was suddenly being thrown against the wall, and I saw a big daddy, a bouncer, piercing into the man, his insides being spiraled onto the massive drill. On the bouncer's back was a young girl, a little sister, who had silky black hair tied in a pale blue ribbon, and a darker blue dress that was patterned with white polka dots. A group of men, Ryan's police to be exact, dealt with the others, executing them on the spot. My murders were now murdered…seemed ironic.

I was now being observed by a Chinese man, in a doctor's uniform. He was looking over at me with distain.

"It seemed that they believed he was implanted with a slug…Fractured one of his ribs, sliced open the stomach tissue, internal bleeding…and blunt trauma to the head…Guards, take this boy to my office in Apollo Square immediately, he is almost dead!"

Before they came to pick me up, he injected me with a needle filled with a clear and thick liquid. I was still in immense pain, but I felt relaxed, and the pain numbed over a little bit. I was so tired, the throbbing pain was an oh-so-familiar lullaby, and I was losing consciousness…and everything went black.

_**February 20, Dr. Suchong's Free Clinic, Artemis Suites, Apollo Square, Rapture: Ashton Gray: **_

The Clinic was dark, I didn't like it. Although, almost all of Rapture was dark. I was on an operating table, in a greenish room. To the north there was a large circular window, the shining lights of Rapture visible.

Two scientists looked at me from above. One was a German woman, with a sour looking face with no pity, and then the Chinese man I met earlier a week ago. I had barely any memories of the period before the operation. I remember medicine, and pain, and that's it.

The process was started with a very heavy injection of a green liquid. It stung horribly, but they didn't seem to care.

"Suchong puts anti-aggressor in your system. It calms you down."

The way Dr. Suchong spoke in third-person was almost comedic. But he wasn't lying, I started to feel tired, like I wanted to cuddle in bed and never come out. My eyes became 100 ton weights, and I found myself asleep just as a black and red slug approached me….

I awoke lying in the bottom bunk of a bunk-bed. The only light source was the slight shimmer the deep ocean pulsed through the large circular window behind me. The room was the same as all the others in Suchong's clinic, with yellowish-green wallpaper and wooden panels meeting halfway at the wall. A matching white-wood floor lay below, and a few drops of dried blood were rusting over it.

I tried to move, sitting up, but failed miserably, as a scorching pain welled up inside my stomach. So, I had no option other than to lie down and wait for someone to get me. But that plan was interrupted when a familiar face appeared from the bunk above me.

The girl was hanging upside down, her pale face and glowing yellow eyes noting her sisterhood. She giggled and grinned.

"Hi, I'm Nancy!"


	7. The Misunderstood

_**Bioshock Forever Rewrite**_

**Chapter Seven**

(Sorry I have been crazy busy with personal stuff and hadn't had any chance to write. ) Oh and although it was stated in the first chapter that Ashton was the first little brother, I changed the plot and **he is now not the first little brother**. Sorry for the typo there will also be un-translated Russian in this chapter so get your Google translates ready!

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_**Excerpts from Rapture Tribune; Circa 1959:**_

"The entire city of Rapture was celebrating New Year's Eve, even the old Atlantic Express was being used to reach some of the older areas of Rapture to make it to parties. Two of the most important parties were those at the "Kashmir Lounge" and the "Adonis Luxury Resort and Spa". Both were high-end establishments inside of the Lighthouse District, albeit being on opposite sides of the compound. They were highly praised as being relaxing and the Plasmid Therapies at Adonis were critically acclaimed. But all that ended abruptly in the "1958 New Year's Riots" as it is dubbed by many citizens. The riots started in Neptune's Bounty around midnight, and bombs that were previously placed by Atlas's followers the day before were detonated in many locations around the Lighthouse District and the surrounding Medical Pavilion. The most powerful bombs were positioned where the most people would be; the Adonis and Kashmir Lounge. The combined death toll was believed to be over 1,000. The bombs did much more damage to the Adonis Resort though, as the entire upper floors of the Resort were flooded. By the end of the night, Andrew Ryan had all exits that were in-tact sealed off from the rest of the city to avoid a higher death toll. In response to the growing level of violence, Andrew Ryan has shut down Bathysphere travel indefinitely. Train access and air-tunnel travel are permitted although the danger of being robbed or mugged is a growing concern. Andrew Ryan states "The parasites are testing our unity as a commune with these riots and attacks. We must continue on and in the end, we shall proceed with unrivaled progress and growth."

_**July 29**__**th**__**, 1959, Lamb's Garden, Dionysus Park, Rapture: Ashton Gray:**_

I laid flat on my stomach, my legs bouncing up and down as my arms wrapped tightly around the horse-shoe shaped metal handle on my big daddy's helmet. He was a unique protector model, before the bouncer but after the Alphas (named the 'Astro Series'). He had a prototype Rumbler head, and a thin, agile body. He was shiny gold, and art deco flourishes were liberally applied all over his glorious armor. He was bent over slightly, as so I wasn't holding myself up, but just holding on for stability. His constant moaning and groaning were like words to me, and we had many conversations.

"Mr. B, why are you so grumpy today? Did you not get enough sleep? Ha-ha."

"Hey Ash!"

The familiar, sweet voice was greeted with a smile. Also riding atop her father's metallic back was my best friend, Nancy Robinson. She was a very pretty girl, even for only being about eight years old.

We met right after I began brother-hood. We instantly became friends. We had much in common; we both enjoyed speaking foreign languages (We agreed that I would teach her French and she would teach me Swedish). We also both had quite the appreciation for art, which is why we were always happy when we were assigned to gather inside Dionysus Park. Little Sisters and brothers were only allowed inside the park after the owner, Sofia Lamb was incarcerated ( 'vanished' to the public), because it had previously been a private district not owned with the city government, or whatever you would call Ryan's 'web of power'.

"Эй Эш, ты думаешь, что девушка там довольно?"

She pointed to a woman in a stunning mermaid-fit gown, obviously silk or satin; she wore a necklace of gold with a blue diamond around her neck. The woman also carried a beautiful silver butterfly mask with blue gems. She has short, curly blond locks. I guess that Nancy had caught me looking at the woman once to many times. Nancy had a little quirk, whenever she was upset, mad, or wanted to tell a secret, she would always speak in Russian. She was born there, to a Russian father and a British mother.

"А почему ты спрашиваешь? Не говори мне, что ты ревнуешь?"

She became flustered red.

"Just tell me if you think she is pretty!"

"Yeah, she's pretty, but, не так хороша, как вы, Нэнси"

Nancy, seemingly finally ok with my answer, started laughing, probably to conceal her red face.

"You're so weird Nancy-"

A familiar smell hit my nose. It was a subtle smell, yet it was still an explosion of sweet, savory, light and dense, every-flavor. ADAM.

"Mr. Bubbles, ADAM! Over there, go, hurry!"

I told my big daddy to charge, and Nancy followed.

We scurried from Cohen's Collection to Lamb's Garden. It was so beautiful, rivaling even Arcadia. The glass ceiling was made of glossed-over warm material that blocked out the dark ocean, and invited artificial sunlight to soothe the minds of the guests. The walls were made of crackled rosy quartz, and red draperies were hung across the areas. All around, Sander Cohen's artworks were held by black easels, all featuring edgy designs and stroke patterns. Many informational propaganda posters were strung around the district, explaining how to use Hidey-Holes, teaching us to never stray from our 'friend', Mr. Bubbles, and most importantly to never miss the opportunity to harvest from a sleeping angel.

The fore-mentioned angel was a dapper man, dressed in a fine yellow tuxedo of scratchy fabric. He had slicked-back chestnut hair that swooped to the right. He wore black shoes with white slacks that were polished to the point. The undershirt of his tuxedo was pure white and ruffled. He was Caucasian, and he was resting peacefully, his hands overlapped above his stomach.

Nancy and I knelt down before him, she was close to his neck, and I to his stomach. I could see, under all the clothes, skin, tissue, his blood vessels. The arteries, veins, even the tiny capillaries. They were glowing a bright red. It was a vibrant color, which etched its way so finely through his body, like a work of art. I felt honored that such glorious art would soon reside inside me.

My big daddy, Subject Moon, handed me my small harvesting tool, which was a large surgical needle incased in metal and tied with steel wire. The needle was modified to push liquid through a tube into a water bottle also wired onto the metal casing. Nancy's was similar to mine, but she used a baby-bottle instead of a jug.

_SLASH!_

My hand rested on the man's chest as I dug the needle straight into the brightest artery, located just a little right of his stomach. The moment we made contact, a bright light flashed and the rosy quarts, red curtains, propaganda, and shiny gold armor melted away from my vision, and a dimly lighted room covered in blood and flies came to be. It sickened me, and a spell of nausea instantly swirled inside me. I still was getting used to this nightmarish realm I saw whenever I harvested. It was a cold, dark hallucination and I dared not tell anyone. I had always wondered if any of the girls or boys I lived with in Siren Alley had the same hallucinations. I had always thought that surely I would've been bullied by the other children, because I wasn't always the favorite kid in the Education Center. I was never strong enough to impress the other boys, and I was never understanding enough for the other girls. Nancy was the only one who decided I was worth the time, maybe because the kids didn't understand her either.

The water bottle on my syringe was filled up to the brim now with a thick red liquid, laced with shiny electro-lights. I tipped the tool and lifted the bottle to my mouth, and drank. The liquid was hot, and its texture would've made any reasonable human squirm. But Rapture wasn't ordinary or reasonable, was it?

As if it was liquid, the scenery melted away, and the shining utopia was once returned to my sight. I looked to Nancy, and we both smiled.

_Different, but all the same._


	8. The Death (Welcome to Ondine)

_**Bioshock Forever Rewrite**_

_Chapter Eight_

We are finally getting to the interesting parts of the story! Sorry about the boring backstory that I've been fleshing out but it's required to understand Ash/Nancy/etc. Let the real story began!

* * *

**_July 30, 1959, Little Brother Orphanage, Ondine District, Rapture: Ashton Gray:_**

The Ondine District was very different compared to the rest of Rapture. The exterior was exactly the same as the other districts, all grey and Art Deco. But on the inside, it was a completely different expression of architectural styles. From what I had heard as a child, the deeds to Ondine were slipped from one hand to another. Hell, I even heard it was under the possession of Augustus Sinclair during the early 50's. But finally, Ryan Industries pooled in a gigantic amount of money to purchase the Ondine District, and used it as a base for the little brother program.

Why was it called 'Ondine District'? It was a beautiful place that was the main central hub for art and culture. But unlike Fort Frolic, it wasn't 'entertainment art' the Ondine District was where all the great artists and philosophers discussed ideas while sipping coffee inside a fine art gallery. It received its name from the large statue of a mermaid on its west entrance (the side of the building visible from Rapture's windows). She was a graceful creature, slim and tall, with lean muscle and flowing hair. Truly a marvelous sight.

It remained untouched during the civil war, because of its convenient placement in the outskirts of Rapture. I truly enjoyed living in the district, as unlike the other boys, I had an understanding and appreciation for art and philosophy.

I had just returned from a late gathering session in Dionysus Park with Nancy (Nancy wasn't allowed inside Ondine District, for a reason I didn't know, but it was saddening because she would've loved the artwork and being alone with the other brothers terrified me. I remember walking around Rapture with Nancy and Subject Moon, telling them in detail anything and everything the boys did, such as kicking and punching and calling me mean names. Subject Moon told me that they were just jealous of my cleverness and talent in the arts. Nancy always told me the minute she was allowed inside Ondine District, that she would go up to the boys and beat them up until they bowed down to me. I was glad we were friends.

I crawled out of the hidey hole, and landed onto the marble floor of the lobby. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the reason why the Ondine District looked so different from the other districts of Rapture, is because since it was architecturally different, the mental conditioning didn't work correctly (because the conditioning altered familiar images into softer versions of themselves). Therefore, I saw the Ondine District _as it was_, instead of through the conditioning lens.

The main lobby was a very spacious circular room. The walls were made of all glass except for the wall with the vent, which was made of soft pure marble. Many old fashioned oil-lit chandeliers that had a Victorian era hung above on a roof that was held up by Art Noveau swirling buttresses painted a shimmering platinum. The front desk was abandoned, along with most of the area. I walked down a shallow staircase into the lower area of the lobby, which housed the iconic mermaid fountain.

It was a crystal fountain, which had many small mermaids swirling around each other into a clam shape, that housed a much larger mermaid, the focal point of the fountain. Multiple jets around the mermaid-clam sprayed fresh water into the air, then back down. It was mesmerizing. As I walked past the fountain, I let my hand brush slightly into the water for just a few seconds.

The lobby led out into a small hallway that curved to both the left and the right. The wall in front of me that separated the two different paths had a silver plaque that was shaped like a Cathedral Tower. At the top of the plaque read "ONDINE DISTRICT DIRECTORY", and below it, titles were written followed by golden arrows denoting which path to take. I had no need to read it, as I knew by heart how to reach the Orphanage. I took a right, and I was counting how many European-styled lamps were inside the corridor when I felt a rough nudge. I turned to find, to my misfortune, Elliot, one of the other little brothers.

"Fancy seeing you here, Elliot."

He scrunched up his nose, which was quite pointy and large for a nine-year-old.

"What's that supposed to mean? We all live here duh."

"It's something called sarcasm, Elliot. It's a concept that uses tone and irony-"

He smacked my arm roughly, but not enough to knock me down.

"Oh don't snap your cap your fruit. If you keep talking like that you'll find yourself battered down in an alley."

I remained silent, and walked far behind him after that. For someone so young, he was quite foul-minded. But all the boys were. Mocking me, occasionally beating me up. It's almost laughable now, a civil war going on, but I was worried about being ganged-up on while Dr. Tenenbaum wasn't looking.

I arrived inside a large court. A few fine art galleries and shops branched off, and to the left, up a pair of stone steps, was what used to be the "Ondine District Art and Culture Museum", which was now what was known as the little brother orphanage. Well, technically, after Ryan Industries nationalized Fontaine Futuristics, they weren't really 'orphanages' anymore. They were more like warehouses, used to store his precious gatherers away.

I waited a few minutes after Elliot walked in to enter myself. I was embraced by a bright light, coming from a diamond chandelier. The museum had no central point, it was just scattered into many different rooms, some small, some large. Some rectangular, some round, some even triangular. I walked past the rooms of my fellow brothers, trying to avoid them at all costs. My plan ultimately succeeded. But something didn't seem right with a lot of them. They were never in a truly good mood; they were pale and sad, like zombies. Subject Moon used a word called 'Optimist' to describe me, a word I didn't understand. He also said that he heard from the other Big Daddies that their children were 'depressed or melancholy or had post-traumatic-stress'. I only knew what depressed and melancholy meant, but I didn't think much of it.

I walked finally down to the end of the west wing, and into a small square room. It had Rococo wallpaper, a Victorian lamp, and a single mattress on a wire bed. A small glass window was the only way to see Rapture. I didn't share my room with anyone, because I again, was the least popular little brother.

There was also a record player in my room, but I tried to keep it as quiet as possible to make sure the other boys wouldn't pester me to borrow it. I slipped on my favorite record, 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schön, and muffled some of the sound with an extra pillow, making it only slightly audible. I closed my eyes, and the sedative power of a stomach full of ADAM lulled me to sleep…

"AAHHHHHHHHH!"

I woke up to an ear-splitting scream. My heart began to race as I flung myself up off my bed and running out of my room to see what the commotion was about.

An optimist, Subject Moon called me. Optimist. Someone who focuses on the good not the bad. The opposite of an Optimist is a pessimist.

And for a moment, on July 30th, 1959, I was sure Subject Moon was wrong. I thought that I was going to die. Right inside of the nearly perfect Ondine District.

_COUGH! COUGH! SPLAT!_

The floor was dyed with red. I watched in horror, a line of blood splattering onto my face, dripping down to my chin. My eyes widened, and I was frozen still.

_W-w-what? No, this can't- _

"Agghgh!"

More blood splashed onto the floor. By now I had figured out what was going on. Kneeling on the floor was a boy named Keryn. And he was sickeningly pale, his glowing eyes full of sadness. He was coughing up blood, and I didn't dare look at his stomach, which he was tearing open with surgical tools.

And then I heard even more coughing. More and more. Soon 5 people were disemboweling themselves. Blood was everywhere. The once elegant museum that was untouched by sin was flooding in red. I was still frozen. Why? They obviously planned this. But how? How could they take such intense pain? It brought back some vague memories, I felt as if I knew that pain, like my own stomach was ripped apart like that. It made me sick.

My frozen body fell to the floor as I vomited. I was sweating and I felt my eyes water. My hands were covered in ADAM-infused puke, but I didn't care. Even if they hated me, even if they wanted me dead, I didn't want them to die like this.

"STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?"

I grabbed the arm of one of the boys, Allen, I think. I tried holding back his arm, but as I was a very weak child, he easily resisted. He flung me to the ground, and picked up his red stained knife.

"L-leave me—I want this."

His stomach was completely open, his intestines and stomach visible. So disturbing, it sickens me to even recall. He held onto something inside his stomach; the slug. He raised the knife, aiming at it—

"NO!"

I found myself cornered by melancholy looking boys. They kept me away while the others committed suicide one-by-one, lying in a pool of their infused blood. I pleaded and cried for them to stop trying to persuade them. I didn't want to be alone…

"Please stop! Don't do this!"

I struggled to get out of their grasp. I clawed at the boys, trying to save the others. Despair, hopelessness, all swirled inside me. It was wrong, they didn't deserve this, even after how they treated me.

"Ash STOP! I didn't want to do this."

"W-"

_JAB!_

Blood fell from above and swirled ontop of the floor. Mine. I looked down, only to see a large harvesting tool wedged inside of my chest. I tried breathing but it was so difficult. Pain recoiled through my body. Why? Why?

I fell to the ground with a thud, my vision going black. All I could see before passing out were the corpses of the little brothers, blood covering everything.

_**RYAN INDUSTRIES CASE FILE: LITTLE BROTHER PROGRAM: DATE: 10/11/1959:**_

"After the major success with the Gatherer and Protector program, the scientists at Ryan Industries decided that male children could be conditioned as well as the young girls, for although there was much triumph, not enough ADAM was being produced for the populace. A smaller orphanage was created in the Ondine District. (Sadly, due to what was described as 'faulty construction' half of the Ondine District collapsed, and the entire orphanage was destroyed, it is unknown if the 'little brothers' survived the ordeal.) Due to budget constraints on behalf of Ryan Industries, the process of creating a Little Brother wasn't customized for the males. They received the same physical and mental conditioning as their female counterpart. Problems began to soon arise though, as the boys were very different from the girls. They seemed to be able to resist the mental conditioning more than the little sisters, and often the pediatric doctors would have to treat anxiety and post-traumatic-stress in the boys. Depression ran very high in all of them, and multiple suicide attempts resulted in massive pain and dysfunctional bone structures (due to the reviving healing power of the ADAM slugs inside the boys). Some boys were desperate enough to actually claw through their stomachs using surgical tools and remove the slug from under their stomach. This is what caused the 'Mass Child Suicide" of July 30th, 1959. After the death of nearly ten little brothers, all new boys were given heavy sedatives and preformed regular psyche evaluations. Another problem with the program was the boy's violence. They were often reports of the children beating each other with lead pipes and other melee weapons, and there was even a child who was treated for stab wounds from a harvesting tool. As of September 7th, 1959, the male gatherer program was cancelled, and all remaining little brothers were locked away inside the Ondine District. But about a month after the tragic collapse of Ondine District, reports of male children running around Rapture began to arise, and since there has been no communication between Rapture and the Ondine District since the incident, there is no way to tell if the boys found a way to escape the orphanage. Both little brothers and sisters have the ability to survive underwater, so it is possible they swam from the district back into populated Rapture. The city 'police' have now started an official investigation as of today. All information regarding the missing little brothers will be reported directly to Andrew Ryan.


	9. The Pure Man's Gift

_**Bioshock Forever**_

_**Chapter Nine**_

_**July 31, 1959, Medical Center, Ondine District, Rapture: Ashton Gray: **_

I was shivering. Not because it was cold though. No, it was because I went into shock after the immense stress and blood loss from my stab wound. Blood was so familiar to me now; I worried about dying every moment of every day, except when gathering with Subject Moon and Nancy.

_Nancy._

I wondered what she would say when she found out what happened. Would she cry? Would she believe it to be Karma? It sickened me to relive the memories.

The entire orphanage was cleared out, and the coroners were cleaning up the remains then sending them to be dumped into the ocean. No need to alert the parents, if they were still alive, that is. The Civil War was in full swing, and even the upper-class districts were feeling the pressure. The lower-class districts were forsaken, and I heard rumors of entire districts being bombed and destroyed. It seemed so pitiful; dying in a once glorious Utopia.

The few medical experts that arrived set up a small treatment tent inside the 'Mother of Pearl Boutique". It was a large jewelry shop on the other end of the Ondine District far from the orphanage. It was a beautiful place, adorned in sea-blue paint with silver crests, many mirrors, and a hand-painted Baroque Ceiling adorned with Cherubs and roses. The Public Announcement system still worked in the district, so soft classical music flowed out of the many speakers strung throughout the shop, with limited news reports and propaganda from Andrew Ryan. The words seemed to mesh together in a rhythmic pattern. "AllCitizensshouldavoidcontactwithlittlesistersand brothersastheirprotectorsaredeadly;stealingadamora nyothercrimesrevolvedaroundAtlascanbepunishibleasa capitaloffense—", the words have lost all meaning to me, and I just noted the rich voice of Andrew Ryan.

"Ashton! The doctor will see you now."

I was ushered in by a man with chestnut hair and wide red eyes (obviously genetically enhanced). He was called by the name Emmett LaClaire, a French doctor. It was obvious that English wasn't his first language, and I would've spoken in French to make communication easier, but I was too ill to try and focus on using an entirely different language. I merely whispered under my breath a small apology, "Pardonnez-moi, mais je Suis fatigué". This wasn't directed towards Doctor LaClaire, but more towards me, and it soothed my soul that I at least acknowledged the problem.

I walked past the front counter, and into a back room which must have been used as a storage room, because it was void of all accessory, save for a few architectural designs on the metal support beams that bracketed the concrete floors and walls. A small tent with a red 'R' entwined with a caduceus, in which a warm yellow light could be seen from outside. When I went inside, I was motioned to sit on a makeshift cot that was next to a wooden stool that had an aluminum wash bucket lying ontop that was covered in blood and water. Many bottles of aspirin, an ace bandage, and syringes filled with clear liquid that seemed very familiar to me were littered all over the floor of the tent and inside a metal cabinet.

Dr. LaClaire moved the bucket to the ground with a distastefully sour look on his face. It seemed as if the blood bothered him. He sat on the stool, and I noted his perfect posture.

"Ok, Ashton, this medical file here says you are eight. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

His heavy and thick accent was very different from mine. I looked up at him. He seemed to be jotting down some notes inside the manila file in his large hands. I swatted my eyes nervously around the tent. The syringes seemed to glitter in the darkness.

"And Ashton, have you felt any dizziness or nausea since you were attacked?"

My voice was flat, and my eyes hallow. I was still in a slight shock, and all passion had left my body.

"Yes. I have felt dizzy and nausea. I'm also very tired."

He took a few more notes, measured my heart beat, and finally concluded that I should be on a certain medication and take a certain type of painkillers as well.

"Alright Ashton, I believe that you will be up and running in just a few weeks. You will have a large amount of scar tissue over your chest, but don't worry about it too much. Now, what I really want to see is how you're dealing with what happened two days ago—"

"You mean when everyone committed suicide…"

His eyes sunk, and I could tell that even he felt remorse. He put his steady hand on my shoulder, and he spoke to me in a caring voice.

"Are you alright? I know that many of the other siblings didn't seem to attach to you well."

I looked at my clawed up feet, and swung my legs.

"I-I guess. I'm more shocked than anything. And yes, you've heard right. I wasn't well liked by the other little brothers. I was just too different from them I guess. A little ironic, considering our government."

His pencil scratched roughly on his notepad. My eyes started to well up, and he gaped as tears started to wet my face.

"Even though they hated me—Even if they hated this world-T-they didn't deserve that fate. No one does!"

I fell into a deep and upsetting fit of tears. The doctor just looked upon me, he felt my sadness, for reasons I would find out later in my life. But even though, in that tent, he couldn't comfort me, I knew he understood, and that he knew mourning.

"Ashton, I'm not a therapist. But here, I want you to have this."

He reached into his lab coat, and took out a metal contraption about the size of a block of sticky notes. It was black and silver, with two record tapes and a few buttons that were labeled with symbols representing 'Play'; 'Rewind', 'Fast Forward', 'stop', and a glowing red button I could only assume meant 'Record'.

"It's a Audio-Diary. It was first made in 1949. It lets you record your voice and hear it over and over again. I'm not a psychology major, but it might help with the grieving process. Record your thoughts, or not if you prefer. It's just a gift from me."

He patted me on the shoulder, and he saw me out of the tent. I looked at the recorder puzzlingly. I decided to use it. I cuddled myself into a desolate corner of the shop, away from everyone else.

_"Date: July thirty-first, nineteen-fifty-nine. My name is Ashton Gray; and **this is my story**."_


End file.
